Breath no more
by Raulsche
Summary: Goodbye seems to be the hardest word...


Breathe No More 

I'm scared, scared to open my eyes and to see her, I'm afraid of her sight, the tears that run down her cheeks, the soothing words she's going to say.

Suddenly I feel something at my hand, a little, gentle touch and I know that it comes from her, even without opening my eyes.

I feel that it's going to happen today, I've felt it all day long and she knows that, therefore she's here. She doesn't want to leave me alone, not at this moment, although I begged her not to come.

I wonder if Luke is there. He had to promise me, that he wouldn't come on 'that day'; it took me a long time until I had convinced him of my request, but would he keep his promise in the end? I hoped it, saw virtually in front of me, how he would be at my house, sitting at the bed of Amanda and telling her some crazy stories about her Mommy.

At heart I don't even know our daughter, isn't that sad? She's 2 years old and I can't even say which hair color she has or whom she looks more akin, too much time has gone since I saw her, it occurs to me like an eternity.

"Mom, do you hear me?" Rory means suddenly, her voice shakes although she's surely trying to stay calm. It's only three words and yet I notice tears rising, tears that I desperately fight against.

I want to be strong, to be like the others will remember me, I don't want to be weak in the last hours, she shouldn't see me like that, no one should.

Slowly I open my eyes, everything is blurry, the light dazzles und immediately a deluge of nausea that I try to fight against overcomes me again.

Searching for orientation I get caught by her face, I respond her look and see some relief in it.

I notice how she squeezes my hand once again, she even smiles and I do the same; so we look at each other, a few minutes of silence, silence that neither one of us bothers.

We both know that our piteous efforts to smile are forced and not honest and nevertheless we remain silent about that, savor only the moment.

"Hey." I greet her gently, whereon I begin to cough, even that is difficult for me, but I still have to tell her so much, to explain to her so many things; I can't just lie here, listen to her and wait for what is rushing towards me.

"Hey, you late riser." She greets back, always cautious to sustain her smile; how much strength does it cost to be that calm?

"I smell coffee." I allege and try to keep my voice calm, at least for a few minutes I would like to talk to my daughter normally, as if everything were okay.

"It's breakfast time." Rory explains laughing; it seems more honest than before, even her eyes sparkle for a moment, a sight that I almost forgot.

"I'm not… hungry."

"That's okay."

"I…" I cough again, this time it's worse than the first time; the pain goes through my entire body, for a second I close my eyes again, try to fight against it vainly; I don't want Rory to see me like this, my free hand knots to a fist, desperately trying to steady herself by gripping the blanket and yes, it works.

Only a few seconds after the attack is over, I notice how my body is calming down again and I finally manage to look at my baby; her gaze has changed quickly, the look dull and sad, the face pale, just like I have seen her most of the last time.

As she let go my hand, I lift up my arm to caress her cheek softly, but I barely touch her face and I let my arm drop onto the bed exhausted.

"I truly regret not getting to know Mandy better." I explain with a fragile voice and look at her.

I don't want to beat around the bush, or in this case around the coffee mug; who knows how much time there's left for me...

In the last weeks and months, since I was admitted to the hospital after my breakdown in the diner, she always answered with the same sentence; a sentence that I already know by heart _You'll have the chance for that_. A sentence in which is so much faith and hope, which should encourage me not to give up no matter how bad my healthiness would be; no matter what the doctors would say, the sentence should give Rory herself the strength to believe in a good ending; that she was staying silent now and evading my gaze making me aware of the point we've reached by now.

"You should go."

It was more than just a well-meant suggestion, it sounded more like a request, maybe I even begged her, but she only shook her head.

"Go home, Rory." I hear myself say; I cough and try to memorize her face a last time; her eyes that were definitely mine, the hair which hung in her face, the silver necklace that I made her as a present for her last birthday, the breathtaking engagement ring on her hand…

I swallow at the thought that I'm not going to sit in the first row when my darling gets married, that I'm not going to see how she happily walks down the aisle to dare a huge step into her future.

My greatest wish had been to fight through the last weeks until her big day, to defeat my illness for a few hours to share just a few minutes of fortune with her, not even a whole day, but a few minutes on the most perfect day of my daughter's life, is that to much to asked for?

Now I don't even know when the wedding will be, whether it's going to be in a week or a month, I don't know it; I can't even say how late it is; when you're lying in a bleak room, every day friends come by and tell you that everything's going to be fine although all of them know that it's not, when you're staring at the ceiling and waiting for your own death, then you lose every sense of time, particularly because it's going to be unimportant; it doesn't matter whether it's morning or evening, summer or winter, it doesn't change anything on the fact that you're dying soon, leaving the people you love, the people you don't want to leave alone, the people who made your life to something special.

"I won't go." Rory replies to me, her voice sounds determined, I shake my head; why can't she turn off her pigheaded behavior for only one time?

"You can't ask me to let you die alone." She goes on with the tears that she had held back for such a long time in her eyes. I look at her shocked, I bite my lower lip lightly; I can't believe that she actually said that. Despite all her agony she had never said the words death or die, she even looked at me angry when I talked about it and actually forbade me to talk about such a thing; and now she did it herself and that in a scary sort of way.

_You can't ask me to let you die alone_; over and over the words clang in my ears, with each time the meaning of this sentences becomes clearer; she knew, perhaps felt that soon I wouldn't be there anymore.

"I'm tired." I explain to her with my voice constantly dying away; this time she enfolded with both hands my ice-cold hand, her face comes closer, then I feel her lips on my forehead.

My heart beats wildly, exhausted I close my eyes, her pressure on my hand gets stronger, more desperate; it almost hurts, but I don't tell her, let the moment rest; the only thing I hear is the buzzing of the machine.

"I love you." I slowly mouth with my lips, but I don't say it; I feel how my body gets heavier with every second, my throat is as dry as ever, there's a strange feeling in my stomach, but in a wondrous sort of way the pain isn't getting any worse, more likely less, or I'm just so used to it that I don't really sense it anymore.

Yet I do believe, what's happening to me and surprisingly I'm not scared anymore.

Since the doctor told me that there wouldn't be any chance of cure, the second in which my world broke apart, I busy myself with the thought how dying would feel like.

I'm afraid of this step into a new, totally different world, afraid of walking through the famous tunnel and the white light into which I would go.

That brought me to the next question, whether there really was this light.

And if yes, what then?

What would happen to me?

I'm not yet ready to die; nobody should die at my age, when you leave a husband that you love, a little daughter that currently learned to walk and a best friend like Rory.

But now all those considerations don't figure anymore, it all moves into the background and I don't think about the _What happens then?_ but the _here and now_.

Now Rory was still with me, held my hand, was there for me; I knew that Mandy was okay and that everyone would take care of her; I knew that Sookie would manage to run the Dragon Fly without me, just like she had done it for such a long time now; I knew that life would go on for everyone, eventually…; that Logan would make Rory happy and that she wouldn't look back at the past sad or maybe furious.

Strange, what you're thinking, when you're about to die, right?

Again I want to tell Rory something, open my mouth, but this time I can't even mouth words; my breath becomes heavy, again I cough, stronger and more painful than before; it feels like my whole body is trapped by the stress.

Then I close my mouth and turn my head to the side…

It's the last thing I do in my life…


End file.
